


Baby Showers for the Utterly Unsuitable

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-12
Updated: 2003-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully's baby shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Showers for the Utterly Unsuitable

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S8  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this and no infringement is intended.

_How did my mother talk me into this again? You'll need new things when the baby comes. It's a good chance to socialise. It's just for fun. Don't you want more friends? The same things she said in junior high and high school, trying to get me out of my room and away from my books. And occasionally, trying to get me away from the friends I had and grouped with the ones she liked, instead. My mother the manager. Okay. Must make small talk. God, it's been so long since I had to do this. I'm out of practice and I wasn't any good to begin with._

"Why Leah, I just love your shirt! Where'd you get it?"  
"It's from one of those catalogs, honey. Coldwater Creek, I think."  
"Aren't those little embroidered animals cute? What do you think, Dana?"  
-Very sweet.

_What happened? I feel so out of place among these simpering women in their mail-order embroidered kitchiness. Did I go wrong somewhere? Did they? They all have children already, and husbands. Maybe that's it. Maybe if I'd just tackled Mulder a few years ago and made him marry me I would have lost this desire to be sleek and serious. Maybe if I hadn't joined the FBI I wouldn't feel the need to be so professional all the time. My closet has no bright colors anymore. It's almost sad. Sexy but unobtrusive: how to dress for success as a woman in the Boys' Club. God knows it took long enough for Mulder to pick up on it. It wasn't an easy look to put together correctly._

"So Dana, just what is it that you do? Your mother wouldn't tell us."  
-I work for the FBI.  
_Silence. Great. Thanks, Mom, for reminding me that you don't approve of the life I've chosen._

"Have you ever...shot anyone?" The typical question, from a tentative blond perched on a puffy pink armchair.   
-Yes.  
"Are you wearing your gun?"  
-No. _I wish I were._  
"Do you have a partner? I read somewhere that you have to have a partner."  
-Yes. His name is Mulder.  
"What's he like?"  
-He likes to talk about aliens.   
They laugh at that. Good. Maybe they'll give up the interrogation.  
Silence.  
"Is your partner attractive?"  
-I suppose. _Mulder? Yes. Oh God, yes._  
They giggle like school girls.  
"Did you ever...?"  
I can't stop myself blushing a little and that only prompts more giggles. Married women, in their 30's at the youngest, giggling like a bunch of teenagers at a sleepover.  
-It's against FBI policy for partners to be...involved.  
"Ah." _Thanks again, Mom. Humiliation at the hands women who have everything I might have wanted is just what makes this day perfect._   
-Really, ladies, my job isn't as interesting as you think. Mostly we just do paperwork.   
"Uh huh. All alone in your office, just the two of you?"  
-For hours and hours on end.   
"How do you pass the time?"  
They're shooting sly looks back and forth. I might as well be honest. They'll think I'm just being wicked. I lean forward a little bit, conspiratorially.  
-Sometimes he comes over and leans on my chair and puts his face right next to mine. He starts talking in a low husky voice. I can hardly keep myself from leaning back against his broad chest. And then he puts his hands on my shoulders, gently.  
They're breathless.  
"And?"  
-And then he tries to correct my addition or asks me a question about something on the paperwork and I remind him that I'm far better at math than he is.  
They slump in their chairs and on their spotless sofas, disappointed. I wonder if any of them have ever had a stalker or seen a dead body. _Probably not._  
-Really, that's all there is. The shooting and investigations that you see on television are fiction. Sheer fiction. No doubt all of your jobs are more exciting.  
_Unless you mean sexually, because none of them are working with Mulder. Hah._ Suddenly I feel good about myself again, justified in my choice of job, if just for the fantasizing I get to do while I'm working on all those mountains of paperwork.

-Anyone want some pea salad?


End file.
